You’ve changed

He said

And no one knew better than I

The truth of his words

He did not like the change

But the change was me

Being me

Not just who he wanted me to be

He laughed at me

And when I told him that hurt

He laughed more

So now we don’t relate

Not because I changed

But  that he hated the change

And the change is me

(c) 2009 Beth NoLastName

She was so Black
Her skin looked purple
In the sun
I was lost
So she took me under her wing
And taught me how to live
She insisted we see Purple Rain
Together
But as I sat between her sister and her
I giggled
And she demanded to know why
There I sat watching an all Black cast
In a theater where I was the only
White woman
Her sister threw us a glare for whispering
“What’s so funny?”
She hissed
Taking my life in my hands
I blurted out
“I feel like the filling in an Oreo cookie!”
The three of us laughed so hard
We were thrown out of the theater
I never did get to see that movie
I’ll have to look it up
Purple Rain
Like my Queen Viola
And her Purple Reign

Months pass

I return from where I started

Stand in one place

Feel the difference

As if visiting an old homestead

Where once I was a child

It’s all familiar

But everything seems smaller than it once did

I have no problem reaching the highest spot

That which was way over my head

Is now eye level

My! how I’ve grown

(c) Feb 2009 Beth NoLastName

All they really want me to do is to listen

Nod my head from time to time

To show I have heard each one

Perhaps make a comment sound

Like hmmmm

But that’s all

They don’t really want a conversation

Or any kind of suggestion or feedback

Just a pair of ears

And a heart with which to listen

(c) 2008 Beth NoLastName

When I turned fifty
I looked in the mirror and laughed
Seeing the child I hold inside
Shining out of my eyes

When I turned sixty
I thought
It’s time to be more serious now
I cut my long hair
Remembering what mother said
About older women not wearing long hair

By the time I turned sixty-one
My hair was growing back
My mother was wrong
When asked my age I paused always
Before adding the one to sixty

Finally, deciding I was happier
When in my fifties
I found a new way to tell the truth
Yet smile as I report my age
I am now fifty-eleven

(c) 2008 Beth NoLastName

I walk in the youth of my old age
In a time when young men
Seek out older women
I shake my head back and forth
Not able to comprehend their reasoning
I am not yet ancient, but surely old enough
To have no longing to reach back two generations
To steal a kiss
Integrity
Dignity
Honor
Respect
Such words fill my head and my heart
Keeping a smile on my face
As my walk remains straight and true

(c) 2008 Beth NoLastName

I am a spirit
Within a shell of a body
A spirit alive and well
Strong and resilient
I am grounded by this body I live in
And limited to it’s confines
Abilities
And ailments
Only in a physical sense
Who I am has little to do
With what is seen with the naked eye
Yet I can be seen
I am not what is heard
By the uncovered ear
Yet I will be heard
Stand away
Apart from me
That I may touch you
I bid you wake
Arise from your slumber
Come to life with me

(c) 2008 Beth NoLastName

In the driest of places
Where the sun bakes the earth beneath it
She blossoms
Boldly
Brilliantly
Flaunting her color
And the fragility of her petals
For the spines that keep her alive
Lay outside her body
Defending the wealth of moisture
She holds within
Water
Life giver
Nature’s hidden balance
In the desert of life

(c) 2008 Beth NoLastName

For (((Kathyrnn))) who understands why roses have thorns.

A common little fellow
Quite shy really
But a good neighbor
In his own little community of water birds
A peace lover, he wages war with no one
Builds his nests in trees
Out of harm’s way
Eating insects, amphibians and fish
Standing hunched and quiet
Until his meal appears
Then moving swiftly
A mighty hunter in his own right
A quiet brown color, camouflaged well
Until mating season arrives
When he and his future mate brighten their feathers
The observer not recognizing which is male
And which female
For the humble fellow would not strive to take the limelight
For himself alone
Brown to the eye when earth bound
But when soaring above
Exposed underbelly and wings
Glisten pure white in the sun
As a spirit rising above a mundane life
The cities expand to overshadow his ponds
Rices paddies and mash lands
Robbing him of his natural habitat
And he, quiet fellow that he is
Backs off
His mate follows his lead
Laying fewer eggs
For they would not intrude on others
But rather seek to keep the balance in nature
Allowing room for other living things
Man, in his thoughtlessness, continues to destroy what is natural
To build empires that will settle one day into dust
As the pond heron searches for water clean enough
To keep life renewing itself
Not crying out to those polluting his world and theirs
Remaining silent
Passive in his resistance
Ghandi’s bird

(c) 2008 Beth NoLastName

A ranger in England
An ecologist in India
And a poet in the USA
Chancing to meet
At a social site
But pulled to one another
By a tide stronger than that of the oceans
No choice
But to go with the flow
As Mother Earth
Called her children together

(C) 2008 Beth NoLastName